Why fetch me hence and take me? To what end?
I am nothing, dead to you this many a year.
How, O thou Heaven-abhorred! am I not now
Lame and of evil smell? how shall ye vaunt
Before the gods drink-offering or the fat
Of victims, if I sail among your crew?
For this, as ye professed, was the chief cause
Why ye disowned me. Perish! — So ye shall,
For the wrong done me, if the Heavens be just.
And that they are, I know. Else had ye ne’er
Sailed on this errand for an outcast wretch,
Had they not pricked your heart with thoughts of me.
Oh, if ye pity me, chastising powers,
And thou, the Genius of my land, revenge,
Revenge this crime on all their heads at once!
My life is pitiable; but if I saw
Their ruin, I would think me well and strong.
CH. How full of bitterness is his resolve,
Wrathfully spoken with unbending will!
OD. I might speak long in answer, did the time
Give scope, but now one thing is mine to say.
I am known to vary with the varying need;
And when ’tis tried, who can be just and good,
My peer will not be found for piety.
But though on all occasions covetous
[1053-1092] Of victory, this once I yield to thee,
And willingly. Unhand him there. Let go!
Leave him to stay. What further use of thee,
When we have ta’en these arms? Have we not Teucer,
Skilled in this mystery? Yea, I may boast
Myself thine equal both in strength and aim
To wield them. Fare thee well, then! Thou art free
To roam thy barren isle. We need thee not.
Let us be going! And perchance thy gift
May bring thy destined glory to my brow.
PHI. What shall I do? Alas, shalt thou be seen
Graced with mine arms amongst Achaean men?
OD. No more! I am going.
PHI. O Achilles’ child!
Wilt thou, too, vanish? Must I lose thy voice?
OD. Come on, and look not, noble though thou be,
Lest thou undo our fortune.
PHI. Mariners,
Must ye, too, leave me thus disconsolate?
Will ye not pity me?
CH. Our captain’s here.
Whate’er he saith to thee, that we too speak.
NEO. My chief will call me weakling, soft of heart;
But go not yet, since our friend bids you stay.
Till we have prayed, and all be ready on board.
Meanwhile, perchance, he may conceive some thought
That favours our design. We two will start;
And ye, be swift to speed forth at our call.[Exit
MONODY.
PHI. O cavern of the hollow rock,I 1
Frosty and stifling in the seasons’ change!
How I seem fated never more to range
From thy sad covert, that hath felt the shock
Of pain on pain, steeped with my wretchedness.
Now thou wilt be my comforter in death!
Grief haunted harbour, choked with my distress!
Tell me, what hope is mine of daily food,
Who will be careful for my good?
[1093-1132] I fail. Ye cowering creatures of the sky,
Oh, as ye fly,
Snatch me, borne upward on the blast’s sharp breath!
CH. 1. Thou child of misery!
No mightier power hath this decreed,
But thine own will and deed
Hath bound thee thus in grief,
Since, when kind Heaven had sent relief
And shown the path of wisdom firm and sure,
Thou still hast chosen this evil to endure.
PHI. O hapless life, sore bruised with pain!I 2
No more with living mortal may I dwell,
But ever pining in this desert cell
With lonely grief, all famished must remain
And perish; for what food is mine to share,
When this strong arm no longer wields my bow,
Whose fleet shafts flew to smite the birds of air
I was o’erthrown by words, words dark and blind,
Low-creeping from a traitorous mind!
O might I see him, whose unrighteous thought
This ruin wrought,
Plagued for no less a period with like woe!
CH. 2. Not by our craft thou art caught,
But Destiny divine hath wrought
The net that holds thee bound.
Aim not at us the sound
Of thy dread curse with dire disaster fraught.
On others let that light! ’Tis our true care
Thou should’st not scorn our love in thy despair.
PHI. Now, seated by the shoreII 1
Of heaving ocean hoar,
He mocks me, waving high
The sole support of my precarious being,
The bow which none e’er held but I.
O treasure of my heart, torn from this hand,
That loved thy touch, — if thou canst understand,
How sad must be thy look in seeing
Thy master destined now no more,
Like Heracles of yore,
[1133-1168] To wield thee with an archer’s might!
But in the grasp of an all-scheming wight,
O bitter change! thou art plied;
And swaying ever by his side,
Shalt view his life of dark malignity,
Teeming with guileful shames, like those he wrought on me.
CH. 3. Nobly to speak for the right
Is manly and strong;
But not with an envious blight
To envenom the tongue;
He to serve all his friends of the fleet,
One obeying a many-voiced word,
Through the minist’ring craft of our lord
Hath but done what was meet.
PHI. Come, legions of the wild,II 2
Of aspect fierce or mild,
Fowl from the fields of air,
And beasts that roam with bright untroubled gaze,
No longer bounding from my lair
Fly mine approach! Now freely without fear
Ye may surround my covert and come near,
Treading the savage rock-strewn ways.
The might I had is no more mine,
Stolen with those arms divine.
This fort hath no man to defend.
Come satisfy your vengeful jaws, and rend
These quivering tainted limbs!
Already hovering death bedims
My fainting sense. Who thus can live on air,
Tasting no gift of earth that breathing mortals share?
CH. 4. Ah! do not shrink from thy friend,
If love thou reverest,
But know ’tis for thee to forfend
The fate which thou fearest.
The lot thou hast here to deplore,
Is sad evermore to maintain,
[1169-1202] And hardship in sickness is sore,
But sorest in pain.
PHI. Kindest of all that e’er beforeIII
Have trod this shore,
Again thou mind’st me of mine ancient woe!
Why wilt thou ruin me? What wouldst thou do?
CH. 5. How mean’st thou?
PHI. If to Troy, of me abhorred
Thou e’er hast hoped to lead me with thy lord.
CH. 6. So I judge best.
PHI. Begone at once, begone!
CH. 7. Sweet is that word, and swiftly shall be done!
Let us be gone, each to his place on board.
[The Chorus make as if they were going
PHI. Nay, by dear Zeus, to whom all suppliants moan
Leave me not yet!
CH. 8. Keep measure in thy w
ord.
PHI. Stay, by Heaven, stay!
CH. 9. What wilt thou say?
PHI. O misery! O cruel power
That rul’st this hour!
I am destroyed. Ah me!
O poor torn limb, what shall I do with thee
Through all my days to be?
Ah, strangers, come, return, return!
CH. 10. What new command are we to learn
Crossing thy former mind?
PHI. Ah! yet be kind.
Reprove not him, whose tongue, with grief distraught,
Obeys not, in dark storms, the helm of thought!
CH. 11. Come, poor friend, the way we call.
PHI. Never, learn it once for all!
Not though he, whom Heaven obeys,
Blast me with fierce lightning’s blaze!
Perish Troy, and all your host,
That have chosen, to their cost,
To despise and cast me forth,
Since my wound obscured my worth!
Ah, but, strangers, if your sense
[1203-1233] Hath o’er-mastered this offence,
Yield but one thing to my prayer!
CH. 12. What wouldst thou have?
PHI. Some weapon bare,
Axe or sword or sharpened dart,
Bring it to content my heart.
CH. 13. What is thy new intent?
PHI. To sever point by point
This body, joint from joint.
On bloody death my mind is bent.
CH. 14. Wherefore?
PHI. To see my father’s face.
CH. 15. Where upon earth?
PHI. He hath no place
Where sun doth shine, but in the halls of night.
O native country, land of my delight,
Would I were blest one moment with thy sight!
Why did I leave thy sacred dew
And loose my vessels from thy shore,
To join the hateful Danaän crew
And lend them succour? Oh, I am no more!
LEADER OF CH.
Long since thou hadst seen me nearing yonder ship,
Had I not spied Odysseus and the son
Of great Achilles hastening to our side.
OD. Wilt thou not tell me why thou art hurrying
This backward journey with reverted speed?
NEO. To undo what I have wrongly done to-day.
OD. Thy words appal me. What is wrongly done?
NEO. When in obeying thee and all the host —
OD. Thou didst what deed that misbecame thy life?
NEO. I conquered with base stratagem and fraud —
OD. Whom? What new plan is rising in thy mind?
NEO. Not new. But to the child of Poeas here —
OD. What wilt thou do? I quake with strange alarm.
NEO. From whom I took these weapons, back again ——
OD. O Heaven! thou wilt not give them! Mean’st thou this?
[1234-1262] NEO. Yea, for I have them through base sinful means.
OD. I pray thee, speak’st thou thus to anger me?
NEO. If the truth anger thee, the truth is said.
OD. Achilles’ son! What word is fallen from thee?
NEO. Must the same syllables be thrice thrown forth?
OD. Once was too much. Would they had ne’er been said!
NEO. Enough. Thou hast heard my purpose clearly told.
OD. I know what power shall thwart thee in the deed.
NEO. Whose will shall hinder me?
OD. The Achaean host
And I among them.
NEO. Thou’rt sharp-witted, sure!
But little wit or wisdom show’st thou here.
OD. Neither thy words nor thy design is wise.
NEO. But if ’tis righteous, that is better far.
OD. How righteous, to release what thou hast ta’en
By my device?
NEO. I sinned a shameful sin,
And I will do mine utmost to retrieve it.
OD. How? Fear’st thou not the Achaeans in this act?
NEO. In doing right I fear not them nor thee.
OD. I call thy power in question.
NEO. Then I’ll fight,
Not with Troy’s legions, but with thee.
OD. Come on!
Let fortune arbitrate.
NEO. Thou seest my hand
Feeling the hilt.
OD. And me thou soon shalt see
Doing the like and dallying not! — And yet
I will not touch thee, but will go and tell
The army, that shall wreak this on thy head.[Exit
NEO. Thou show’st discretion: which if thou preserve,
Thou may’st maintain a path exempt from pain.
Ho! son of Poeas, Philoctetes, come
And leave thy habitation in the rock.
[1263-1294] PHI. What noise again is troubling my poor cave?
Why do ye summon me? What crave ye, sirs?
Ha! ’tis some knavery. Are ye come to add
Some monster evil to my mountainous woe?
NEO. Fear not, but hearken to what now I speak.
PHI. I needs must fear thee, whose fair words erewhile
Brought me to bitter fortune.
NEO. May not men
Repent and change?
PHI. Such wast thou in thy talk,
When thou didst rob me of my bow, — so bright
Without, so black within.
NEO. Ah, but not now,
Assure thee! Only let me hear thy will,
Is ‘t constant to remain here and endure,
Or to make voyage with us?
PHI. Stop, speak no more!
Idle and vain will all thine utterance be.
NEO. Thou art so resolved?
PHI. More firmly than I say.
NEO. I would I might have brought thee to my mind,
But since my words are out of tune, I have done.
PHI. Thou wert best. No word of thine can touch my soul
Or win me to thy love, who by deceit
To school me, — of noblest father, basest son!
Perish, the Atridae first of all, and then
Laërtes’ child, and thou!
NEO. Curse me no more,
But take this hallowed weapon from my hand.
PHI. What words are these? Am I again deceived?
NEO. No, by the holiest name of Zeus on high!
PHI. O voice of gladness, if thy speech be true!
NEO. The deed shall prove it. Only reach thy hand,
And be again sole master of thy bow.[ODYSSEUS appears
OD. But I make protest, in the sight of Heaven,
For Atreus’ sons, and all the Achaean host.
[1295-1330] PHI. Dear son, whose voice disturbs us? Do I hear
Odysseus?
OD. Ay, and thou behold’st him nigh,
And he shall force thee to the Trojan plain,
Howe’er Achilles’ offspring make or mar.
PHI. This shaft shall bear thee sorrow for that boast.
NEO. Let it not fly, by Heaven!
PHI. Dear child, let go
Mine arm!
NEO. I will not.[Exit ODYSSEUS
PHI. Ah! Why hast thou robbed
My bow of bringing down mine enemy?
NEO. This were ignoble both for thee and me.
PHI. One thing is manifest, the first o’ the host
Lying forerunners of the Achaean band,
Are brave with words, but cowards with the steel.
NEO. Well, now the bow is thine. Thou hast no cause
For blame or anger any more ‘gainst me.
PHI. None. Thou hast proved thy birthright, dearest boy.
Not from the loins of Sisyphus thou earnest,
But from Achilles, who in life was held
Noblest of men alive, and now o’ the dead.
NEO. It gladdens me that thou shouldst speak
in praise
Both of my sire and me. But hear me tell
The boon for which I sue thee. — Mortal men
Must bear such evils as high Heaven ordains;
But those afflicted by self-chosen ills,
Like thine to-day, receive not from just men
Or kind indulgence or compassionate thought.
And thou art restive grown, and wilt not hearken,
But though one counsel thee with kind’st intent,
Wilt take him for a dark malignant foe.
Yet, calling Zeus to witness for my soul,
Once more I will speak. Know this, and mark it well:
Thou bear’st this sickness by a heavenly doom,
Through coming near to Chrysa’s sentinel,
The lurking snake, that guards the sky-roofed fold.
And from this plague thou ne’er shall find reprieve
[1330-1368] While the same Sun god rears him from the east
And droops to west again, till thou be come
Of thine own willing mind to Troia’s plain,
Where our physicians, sons of Phoebus’ child,
Shall soothe thee from thy sore, and thou with me
And with this bow shalt take Troy’s citadel.
How do I know this? I will tell thee straight
We have a Trojan captive, Helenus,
Both prince and prophet, who hath clearly told
This must be so, yea, and ere harvest time
This year, great Troy must fall, else if his words
Be falsified, who will may slay the seer.
Now, since thou know’st of this, yield thy consent;
For glorious is the gain, being singled forth
From all the Greeks as noblest, first to come
To healing hands, and then to win renown
Unrivalled, vanquishing all tearful Troy.
PHI. Oh how I hate my life! Why must it keep
This breathing form from sinking to the shades?
How can I prove a rebel to his mind
Who thus exhorts me with affectionate heart?
And yet, oh misery! must I give way?
Then how could I endure the light of heaven?
With whom could I exchange a word? Ay me!
Eyes that have seen each act of my sad life,
How could ye bear it, to behold the sons
Of Atreus, my destroyers, comrades now
And friends! Laërtes’ wicked son, my friend!
And less I feel the grief of former wrong
Than shudder with expectance of fresh harm
They yet may work on me. For when the mind
Hath once been mother of an evil brood,
It nurses nought but evils. Yea, at thee
I marvel. Thou should’st ne’er return to Troy,
Nor suffer me to go, when thou remember’st
What insult they have done thee, ravishing
Thy father’s rights from thee. And wilt thou then
Sail to befriend them, pressing me in aid?